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Book 



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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



ADRIENNE 


AND OTHER POEMS 


BY 


MARY ISABEL 


WYMORE 


jiy|^ARTIety6RITAn.|y 


^ 'sJff 


BOSTON 


RICHARD G. BADGER 


tCfte (gorijam l^xtSi 


1907 



Copyright igo6 by Mary Isabel Wymore 



All Rights Reserved 



LiBa.^HY of CONGRESS 
Two Copies Received 

>-"68 19 190f 



^Joyyri£ht Entry 
CLASS A XXC, No, 
COPY B. ' 



^"7 



77/^ Gorha^n Press^ Boston 



TO MY TRUE FRIEND 



To her whose kind sympathy and aid have been 
the inspiration of this work — I dedicate these 
poems. 



" Our birth is hut a sleep and a forgetting: 
The soul that rises with us, our life's Star^ 
Hath had elsewhere its settings 

And Cometh from afar.'' — Wordsworth. 



These poems are arranged in the order in which 
they were written, thus making an unbroken chain 
in the development of an idea. 



CONTENTS. 






Page 


Adrienne ...... 


7 


Spring ...... 


14 


Egotism 


16 


Elva; or, The South- Wind's Tale 


17 


Keep My Faith .... 


20 


The Eternal Mystery 


20 


The Universe .... 


22 


The Winter s Promise 


26 


What is Better than Success? 


26 


No, Not a Cynic .... 


27 


The Lost Glory .... 


27 


When Hope is Gone 


30 


Glimmerings through the Mist 


33 


Atheism ..... 


35 


Good-Night . . 


43 



ADRIENNE 

*Tis a simple tale, a tale of the sea, 

And if, as ye read, it seems to be 

More than an idle tale, then take 

It as murmurings strange that the waters make,- 

Voices heard in the sounding waves, 

Rising from deep-hid ocean caves. 

Interpret the story as ye will, 

*Tis only a simple sea-tale still. 

I 

Once there lived by the surging sea ■ 

A maiden wondrous fair; 
White as the very sea-foam was she, 

Like the sun her shining hair. 
And nothing she did the livelong day 

But sit beside the surge; 
And e'en when the storm-winds flung the spray, 
f'} Still clung she to the verge. 
ll^'Though the booming swell 
\'w^ In thunder spoke; 

"^ Though blinding fell 
The rain, and broke 
' The waves on the rocky shore: 

Still she dreamed there evermore. 
But the sea-gulls thick around her flying 
Hoarsely were ever their warning crying; 
" Adrienne, Adrienne, 
Oh, when, oh, when 
Will you wake and cease your dreaming?*' 



And they hovered and ducked and soared on high, 
And swooped upon her with their cry, 

And filled the air with screaming. 
But Adrienne, unheeding, kept 

Her eyes fixed on the sea, 
Though all around the tempest swept. 

And the white-caps tossed in glee. 

II 

There, ever and ever, day on day, 

The lonely maiden sat. 
Yearning and wishing and longing aye 

For something, she knew not what. 
In all things as a child was she; 

A spirit bright but lone. 
She had never tasted misery, 

No grief had she ever known 
Save the mystic silence that bound her close, 

And the wind that breathed of love. 
And the longings, unhid, that within her rose, 

And the calls of the birds above: 
" Adrienne, Adrienne, 
Oh, when, oh, when 

Will you cease your idle dreaming?" 
For thus the sea-gulls wheeling overhead 

Were forever and ever screaming; 
And the silence in clearer accents said: 
"Alas, forever dreaming!" 



Ill 



One morn a ship, all ghostly gray, 

Came sailing, silently sailing 
Out of the west at break of day; 

Its top a mist was veiling. 
As it nearer drew, it caught the beams 

Of the sun, and shone snow-white. 
Skimming the glistening breakers, meseems, 

Like a bird, with passage light. 
On the shore, Adrienne, in wonder bound. 

Saw this moving shape come gliding; 
And a faint little whisper of joyous sound 

Stirred her soul as she saw it sliding 
Silently, smoothly, o'er the deep. 
No longer her voice was chained in sleep. 

But wild 'round the cliff it rang; 
For the first, first time, so gladly sweet, 

In her nameless joy, she sang. 
That willingly sailors their death would meet,- 

Entranced as of old by the Siren's tones, — 

To hear that voice from amongst the stones. 



IV 



But suddenly over the sea there rushed 

A gale so chilling cold 
That the voice of Adrienne was hushed. 

The peals of thunder rolled 
From cliff to cliff, with awful sound. 

Like a giant's mutterings 
Of rage; and the wakened waves resound 

With sullen roar, that brings 



9 



A pallor to the sailor's cheek, 
As by the lightning's glare 
He rises, — in such an hour how weak! — 

The ocean's worst to dare. 
The blackness of twenty nights is come 

O'er the sea, with all it bears. 
And a line of merciless, pounding foam 

With the rocky cliff mad Wars. 
There, shrouded in the gathering gloom, 

Her wind-blown tresses flying, 
Her hands outstretched in wild affright, 
Her bright eyes dimmed with crying. 
While the rain beats down on her fair young head, 
And a fitful glare is upon her shed 

By the zigzag lightning playing. 
Stands Adrienne, with wild, wild woe 
Struck mute, and dumbly praying 
All powers that be, above, below. 
To save that ship from its dreadful doom. 
And send once more the grateful light. 
Ah, Adrienne, 
'Twas then, 'twas then 
You awoke from your idle dreaming! 
Adrienne, Adriennne, 
'Twas then, 'twas then. 
With the lightning o'er you streaming! 



In vain, in vain, that prayer was blown 

Across the raging brine; 
But if God saw fit that the ship go down, 

Adrienne, 'twas no fault of thine. 



10 



While the horrible din of cries and groans, 
Of shrieks for help, of despairing moans 
Of souls wrenched hard away 
From the clasp of the wonted clay, 
Did with violent agony sway 
That slender young form, which the spray 
Had drenched with brine; and away 
O'er the sea did her hopeless gaze stray. 
Straining in wild dismay 
To catch, by the lightning's play, 
A glimpse of the ship so gray, 
Ere it sunk beneath the wave. 
To find a watery grave 
For the ones she could not save, — 
God in mercy cleared away 
The clouds, and sent sunny day 
O'er waters of purest blue. 
Which never a faint trace knew 
Of the winds that raged and blew, 
And wrecked, within the view 
Of the lonely girl, the ship; 
And she saw, with quivering lip. 
That beneath these ripples fair, 
Sparkling in the sunny air, 
Down in the waters there. 
Was it lying, with all it bare. 

VI 

Ay, the storm had cleared, and the sun shone red 
O'er the breakers white with foam. 

How fast the thunderous clouds had sped! — 
No slower had they come. 



11 



Glad summer took within her fold 

Sea, sky, and land, and all; 
No longer the heaving billows rolled, 

No more did the torrents fall. 
Only that surface dimpling there. — 

So fair, so calm, so mild, — 
Looked as innocent 'neath the golden air 

As if it had never, in wild, 
Mad rage sent down to eternal sleep 

The sailors brave who rode 
Over, its treacherous waters deep, — 

Ah, me! — to their long abode: 
Leaving their loved ones behind to weep 

That they ever had dared to confide 

Their lives to the ocean wide. 

VII 

The maiden knelt on the beach awhile, 

Sobbing in piteous grief; 
Then heedless of all the false sea's guilty 

Sundered from all belief. 
She mournfully sank upon the sands, 

And bathed her limbs in the tide; 
Wearily looped up the scattered strands 

Of hair, and in sorrow sighed. 
So bright a hope had come and gone, 

So glad a dream was o'er, 
That the weight of the pain thus thrust upon 

Her, unused as she was, seemed more 

Than her gentle heart could bear; 

So bowed she in despair. 



12 



VIII 

But as, overcome, she lay in pain, 

Good God a blessing sent, as sweet 
As a bud of spring, or the gentle rain 

That feeds the bud; for, flung at her feet. 
The One lay upon the wave-licked sands. 

His ghastly face upturned; 
She softly stroked it with timid hands, 

While the heart within her burned. 
She holds him in her tender arms. 

And gazes in mute bliss. 
While the cold, cold form she sweetly warms, 

And seals the lids with a kiss. 
Once, twice, and thrice, in wond'ring joy. 

She kissed the marble brow 
And the golden tresses of the boy. 

And the cheek as white as snow, 
While deep love into her lonely soul 
Softly, quietly, tenderly stole. 

Bringing its own sweet, brooding peace; 
And the smiling sun shed o'er the whole 

His healing beams, nor did he cease 
Till he warmed the maiden's kneeling form. 

And lit with a radiant light 

The brow so smooth and white 
Of the Beautiful One sent by the storm; 
Till at last in mercy there came a wave 

From the heart of the briny deep. 
That bore them both to a happy grave 

And the joy of a peaceful sleep. 
There, deep in the Ocean's tranquil breast. 

No more to moan or weep, 



13 



While the waves their tireless vigils keep, 
They are gently lulled to eternal rest. 
But v^here is the soul, a pining guest 
While here by the chains of flesh suppressed ? 



SPRING 

Warm is the breath of the South-v^ind, 
Waking in meadow and glade 

Sweet little modest blossoms 
Timid in sun or shade. 

Blue is the sky and smiling; 

Calm is the day, and fair; 
The woodland music is ringing 

Glad in the sunny air. 

Spring is born in the meadow, 
Spring is born in the glade; 

Spring soft plays in the sunshine, 
Spring rests cool in the shade. 

Through the day and the night-time 

Ever one song is sung: 
Love is born in its beauty. 

Again is the old earth young. 

Well may the soul look upward 

Through its spiritual eyes. 
Far beyond the hazy snow-drifts 

And the sunny blue of the skies, 



14 



And catch the distant glimmer 
Of a land all clothed in light, 

Which knows no stormy winter, 
And is always equally bright. 

There, haply, the pure and the sin-stained 

Will mingle glad and free. 
See the same glistening rainbow, 

Rest 'neath the same green tree, 

Breathe the same fragrant odors, 
List to the same sweet songs. 

And out in Heaven's sunshine 
Bury their pains and wrongs: 

E'en as the earth, recreated. 
With her stains all washed away, 

In her beauty pure rejoices 
All the soft-rippling day. 

When dying eyes are closing, 

And faint grows the mortal breath. 

And faded and old are the garments 
Of flesh, and rigid in death, 

Then will the blessed mem'ry 
Of Spring in her gladsome green 

Steal o'er the dulling senses 
With a touch of joy serene; 

And, a smile on his face, the dying 

Will close his eyes in peace. 
Hoping to taste the sweetness 

Of a Spring that will never cease. 

15 



EGOTISM 

" Hespera, hast thou not noted oft 
How now spots, fleecy white and soft, 
And dazzling bright in the sun; now clear, 
Dark spaces of curious shape, appear, 

Which anon are veiled in mist again, 
As light or shadows now and then 
Glide o'er the face of that orb afar ? 
Much do I wonder what they are. " 

" Ay, Anehda; the wise men say 
That yon is a world like ours, and they 
Would have us believe that beings there 
Like unto us, — as wise, as fair, — 

Are dwelling; but I think only Mars, 
Of all the myriads of shining stars. 
Folds to its breast an intelligent race. 
And raises to heaven a living face. " 

" Hespera, thou art quick of speech; 
Be not so hasty, I pray, to teach 
That in all the universe, wide and vast, 
The one germ of life on our orb was cast. " 



16 



ELVA; OR, THE SOUTH-WIND'S TALE 
I 

There is a valley, snugly closed 

By sentinel hills around; 
There the sunshine streams. 
And the water gleams; 
There the sunny stillness calm reposed, — 

The south-wind the only sound, — 
When wandering through it I heard a voice. 

And I listened. Now sweet and clear, 

And anon, like the breath of a mere 
Wind, did it come; but it did rejoice 

My heart, to hear it speak 

Of a maiden, bright, but weak 
And lonely, who lived in this valley fair, 
And longed to fly to the purer air. 
And this is the tale the south-wind told 
Of the maiden's fate in the days of old. 

II 

The rising East was bathed in a crimson glow, 
And inch by inch the Earth's dark shadow crept 
Farther and farther into the West, where slept 
Still soundly weary lands beneath its bow 
Of night. The morning wind blew cool 
And sweet o'er meadow and dreaming pool, 
Rustling the leafy trees. 
And tossing bright, waving seas 
Of grass. Then softly one stole away 



17 



From her bed, uneasy with dreams 
Too bright for her peace, or meseems, 
Too vexed for her tender years. 
Too harassed by lonely tears. 
In the early dawn of the green Spring day, 
Half-wakened, and dreamy with sleep, 
She strayed by the whispering stream, 
And watched the glad sunrise gleam 

Golden on lofty steep, 
Then bathe in its flood the glen, 
And the dwellings of drowsy men. 



Ill 



Warmer and warmer grew the light; 
Farther and farther retreated the night. 
Wrapped warm in the sunny air 
And the south-wind, Elva fair 

Lingered long by the streamlet's side. 
In a brooding calm she wandered there, 
And bent on the waters a musing stare. 

And viewed the heavens serene and wide. 
Which, smiling above her, — deep and blue, 
As if they never a shadow knew 
Save the downy clouds that drifted slow 
Across them, — seemed, in a voice so low 
That dull-eared men would have heard no sound 
but the wind, to say: 

" Come, gentle soul, and let thine innocence 

Be safely tolded in my love intense. 
Before the stony, thirsty deserts line thy lonely way." 



18 



IV 



The maiden heard, and Hfting up her face 
In its dewy purity and youthful grace, 
She gently answered: " Bear me, O sweet wind, 
Up to the skies; we'll leave the earth behind, — 
The earth, homely mother of my infancy; 
Even as thou callest, beauteous Heaven, 
To thine airy heights I'll gladly go with thee, 
For to me a lonely lot is given. 

There on thy loving breast 

I'll lie in eternal rest." 



She spoke, nor spoke again, nor ever more 
Was Elva seen beside that dreamy shore. 

Whence she vanished no one ever knew; 
But the sunny south-wind the truth would slyly 
tell. 
And the secret smiled from the heavens blue. 
At least, she was gone forever from that dell. 
Yet in some sunny place. 
Some serene and airy space, 
I doubt not doth she dwell. 



VI 



And then, methought, when love here on this orb 
Seeketh, unresting, for immortality. 

Even as the heavens did her soul absorb 

In their wide mystery, so with Love 'twill be. 



19 



KEEP MY FAITH! 



O thou Unknown Power, 

Whose mysterious sway my spirit feels, with awe; 
E*en in my darkest hour, 

Still grant me strength to read thy divine law 
Of equal peace and joy for all; 
Oh, keep my faith, whate'er befall! 

Still let me see the light, 

Far, far above me, where the sunny sky 
Melts away before the sight; 

Still let me feel that somewhere, lie 
Fair morning lands of constant peace. 
Where love and spring-time never cease! 



THE ETERNAL MYSTERY 

Life and life! — near, yet apart! 

What the mystery 
Which binds them thus, when heart on heart 

Each longs to be, 
One with another ? Alas, in vain, 

Through all the ages. 
Have we chased joy and suffered pain, 

Still divided pages! 
Each yearns to blend with another; yet 

Each separate stays; 
All fruitlessly each strives to get 

Within the maze. 
What is life, that flows around us swift. 



20 



A turbid stream, 
From whose distant banks the fogs ne'er lift, 

Nor does a beam 
Of sunshine melt the mist ahead 

That guards the mouth, 
Nor is a radiance freshly shed 

O'er its lost youth ? 
Ah, me! The ages sing no lay 

But only this, — 
That what has been is gone away, 

And that what is 
Will not be soon, and what shall be 

Soon will flee. 
And what we've seen we'll no more see. 

For the new will be. 
But there's a voice within the heart 

Whispering still, 
That what now pains us will depart, 

And that there will 
Sometime be what we've longed for aye; 

That yet the time 
Shall come, the dawn of a brighter day, 

In a sunnier clime. 
With reason stern the voice combat. 

And 'tis hushed; 
Yet faith remains still, for all that, — 

Never crushed. 



21 



THE UNIVERSE 

See, all around us are moving myriad orbs, 
Each a rolling world, like to our own, with seas. 
Perhaps, and sunny skies, and verdant fields, 
That fill the air with mingled sweet, fresh smells 
Of sprouting herbs; with breathing, active forms 
Of animal Hfe, that roam the lands, or swim 
-The seas, or sail the heavens wide and free; 
With beings full of intelligent fire, whose eyes 
Glow with a thinking light and ernest mood; 
With beauteous shapes it hurts the soul to see, — 
Clad in the dangerous garment of mortal flesh; — 
(We weep that it cannot last, what is so fair); — 
Bright faces that smile a space and flit away, — 
One moment warm with the soul's best glow, the 

next 
All quenched to ashes pale. Who knows what 

lives 
Have hung a doubtful period near the brink 
Of death's dark chasm, — as do we all, — and then 
Have fainted and fallen from the verge ? what 

pains. 
What joys, what sorrows, what rewards, what 

hopes. 
What cold despair, what passions mad, what strong, 
Wild wishes, sins, and evil deeds; what high. 
Pure, noble depths of soul; what weakness sad, 
That fell, too frail to fight; what mortal pangs 
And yearnings, in those unknown worlds afar. 
Have burned, have faded, glowed, and flickered, 

till 



22 



That mystery that none may fathom stilled 
Them all for aye ? 

There, where the glittering stars 
Shine on our earth tonight like smiles that pierce 
The awful blackness for friendly comfort's sake: 
Look up, and tell me: do they not bring faith ? — 
Those pensive smiles, those peaceful smiles, those 

smiles 
That seem to speak of calmness wrested hard 
From the grip of pain, and peace serene, at last 
Won, spite of all that interposed between. 
What worlds they seem to speak, those quiet 

smiles, — 
What worlds of sorrow, thought, and doubt, and 

pain. 
And flitting joy, that fluttered but to die, 
Like a gaudy butterfly; and struggle grim. 
And final triumph or defeat, and rest 
Calm in the stillness of death, that silent broods 
O'er millions of spirit-worlds, which, dying, burst 
Aflame, and burn still bright, though ages since 
Have passed! Where now the mortal beings, who 
Once strived and sorrowed there, and sought for 

joy. 

And found a hollow void, or senseless clay, 

As mortals must, in the stage 'twixt brutish flesh 

Without the breath of spirit-life, and soul 

Dissolved in the primal ether ? Where 

The life, the thought, the breath that filled the 

whole 
With meaning ? All decayed in lumpish clay, 
And burning on that gigantic funeral-pile. 
The world that bore the living forms ? All gone ? 

23 



The men of science have cleared a little space 
In the vast depths of the universe. The stars, 
That have shown like lamps a-light in the dark sky 
Through all the ages since the v^orld began, 
Still shine the same, but v^e knovsr their distance 

now, 
Even how much matter in them is massed, and what 
They consist of; whither they drift, what relations 

stand 
Amongst them; how they sometime have brighter 

been. 
Or dimmer; how orbs once hot glow no more; 
How orbs once dark and dead now blaze with fire 
Kindled by a sudden collision, world with world. 
Perhaps. We know that a number far too great 
For conception, of masses fiercely hot, and lumps 
Cold and stiff, like the earth and the moon, and 

clouds, — 
Formless — vague — filling immeasurable space, — 
Like Orion's nebula, and galaxies 
Rich in new stars, white-hot from the forge of Time, 
Are bound in a cluster huge, that twists its coils 
Round the neck of Heaven, enclosing the Milky 

Way, 
With its dense star clusters, and shapeless nebulous 

films 
That glimmer afar with light of green or blue, 
Awful in their vast distance; — there hanging huge, 
Unmeasured, infinite to our eyes, the mass 
Is floating onward, bearing us in its folds. 
Yet there is a space beyond it we dimly see. 
That holds in its lap yet other systems, great 
As ours, or greater, mayhap, — we know not. 
Far as we see, yet farther still there lies 

24 



More space to be pierced. We know that ages past 

A different universe filled the rayless void 

Of nothing that pens it in. We knov^ that things, — 

All things, — are changing nov^; that what has been 

No longer is, and that what is will soon 

Give o'er to still other forms we know not of. 

We know that the Earth and her sister planets 

round 
Must one day unite with their parent sun again, — 
Where shall we be then ? — and that the whole 

universe 
May be massed together in one gigantic ball 
Of matter, blazing through the depths of time, 
And throwing a terrible light through the black 

abyss 
Of space. So much have the scientists shown us. 

Yet 
They have not ripped the veil from the face of 

Truth, 
For we know not yet the beginning of things, or the 

end. 
Beneath the shallow current of our life 
Here on the earth, — its pleasures, pains, and aims, — 
Lie the deep waters of thought and doubt's unrest; 
And under all, is the firm, hard bed of faith. 
Probe we, with our small strength, the depths of 

space, 
And we find no answer to that old question: 

" Whence 
Come we, and whither do we go ?" Alas 
For him " who strives to know where faith should 

trust!" 
For assurance to fainting hope and the strong 

desire 

25 



That throbs and beats, and longs and longs and longs 

For knowledge that shuts not out the hope of bliss, 

And is never satisfied; to the eternal wish 

To know all things, and far, far more, to find 

A state of peace and tranquil happiness 

And love, we must have faith to wait and trust. 



THE WINTER'S PROMISE 

" I will bear ye onward 

Through the darksome night, 
Onward to the sunshine, 

Onward to the light; 
And though my breast is cold, 
And though my face is old. 
Still I'm a faithful guide 
To the place where ye'd abide. 
And I will surely make 
The journey ye would take. " 



WHAT IS BETTER THAN SUCCESS.? 

What is better than success ? 

To do your duty, 
Strive your best, without selfishness, — 

There is beauty! 
Say with Odin, " I will fight, 

Though I'm to fall!"^ 
Just to struggle for the right 

Is best of all. 



26 



NO, NOT A CYNIC 

A cynic, do you ask me ? No, not quite! 
A cynic would feel not gladness in that light 
That dips the trees and the grass and everything 
In a golden glow. The wind-song would not bring 
Sweet hope with it, from memory's sunlit hours 
Of musing o'er the new-born wildwood flowers, 
Or from the future, however wild and strange 
It seemeth, since all earth's things forever change. 
There is sadness in the wind, but there is sweet 
As well. Would that everyone might as gladly 

greet 
That sound, as I ! But to many and many, I know, 
It brings but sorrow to hear that sighing low. 



THE LOST GLORY 

I 

A roseate glory glimmering from afar, 

A warm, rich light empurpling rich-clad boughs; 
More dazzling radiance gleaming in every star. 
Where they shine, gem-like, on Night's soft, 
dusky brows; 
A west-wind blowing wide and free and cool. 

Sweeping o'er valley and hill with deep-toned 
voice; 
Heaven's dear face reflected in every pool, — 

Bright mem'ries of childhood, how they my 
heart rejoice! 



27 



II 

Then the strong wind spoke to my heart of heroic 
deeds; 
Then noble shapes were companions in my 
dreams; 
Then I walked with those who sowed in my soul the 
seeds 
Of courage and faith when Hope has hid her 
beams; 
Then I slowly strayed through the green and blos- 
soming fields 
Of Spring, through the Summer's fierce and 
panting heat, 
Through Autumn's woods, where the gay leaf the 
acorn shields, 
O'er the icy hills with the wintry tempests beat; 

III 

And my heart quailed not at the thought of dismal 
death, 
And a body in darkness lonely rotting away; 
Young hfe ran warm in my veins, and warm was 
my breath. 
And in friendship closely knit were the soul and 
the clay. 
But the winds called loud, as they're calling even 
now. 
Not with wail or sigh, but a mystic, moving force 
Calling me on, and I follow, or swift or slow; 
And I follow, till Time shall have ticked my 
earthly course. 



28 



IV 

" The glory shall come again," my Spirit cries, 

But her voice is muffled oft in my tired brain; 
I hear her faintly, she only sobs and sighs, 

And adds with her weeping to anxious life's sad 
pain. 
Yet again, in the silence, she calls, and I hear her 
then. 
And my Faith sleeps as sweetly as child of Joy 
ever slept; 
She bides in my breast unafraid, as in breasts of 
men 
She must ever abide, while the ashes of glory are 
kept. 



Death is a passing, another turn of Change, 

That rolls from our sight forever the friends we 
love; 
From our sight forever, we say, for our bodies 
derange 
The delicate vision our souls brought down from 
above. 
We see them not; but they hover still in our dreams. 
And their wings brush our faces as o'er us they 
nightly bend; 
And patient they wait, till for us the glory gleams 
Once again, and we too know the bliss of life 
without end. 



29 



WHEN HOPE IS GONE 

Moral: Yield not to Despair, 
But fight him in his lair, 

As Great-Heart didlj^j 
Beyond thy trammeled view 
Gleams a city fair and true, 

Though its light is hid! 

Fast fell the snow. A slender girl, ill-clad, 
And wan with want, and stooping low, and sad 
Of face, strove hard against the wintry blast. 
Shivering, and drawing tight her shawl, she passed 
Along the lonely road. On right and left, 
Moaning as their bleak branches were wrenched 

and reft 
By the winds, dark woods rose high. And gleam- 
ing afar. 
Bright lights of a city shone, each a twinkling star 
In the stormy night's void blackness; now fair and 

clear 
As morning hope in life's one happy year. 
Now swallowed up in the hollow wind's loud roar, — 
Now bright — now dim — now certain — now no 

more, — 
And the wanderer's one haven, Hope, is fled. 
" Ah, well for me, indeed, were I now dead 
And at rest at last, rather than wandering here. 
Alone in the cold — O God! — all that was dear. 
All, all gone now, and this black night blinding me, 
So never a ray of hope can my poor eyes see! 
That city, 'tis a dream, — a cruel dream 
That mocks me, — for it anon doth refuge seem. 



30 



And then is vanished, with all my hope of rest. 

I wander here alone, and sad oppressed 

With doubt and fear, sudden hope and wishes vain, 

Weariness of body and of brain. 

Loneliness, love-longing, life's despair 

Of a life to be lived in a purer and sunnier air! — 

Alone, alone, no shelter, aid, or hope ' 

To strengthen my lagging steps! — O dark sky, ope 

But a slit in thy gloomy vault, that one little ray 

Of Heaven's sunshine may promise another day, — 

Blest assurance that this black night will not last 

for aye! 
O wood, that weepest and wailest and groanest 

alway, 

cavernous wood, so dark and deep, art thou 
The only companion of my journey now ? 

1 shall never reach the city. — Alas, it gleams 

Full bright! From afar the mock of hot hearth- 
lights streams, 
That draws me to my doom! The grave yawns 

wide, 
A huge, black gulf, 'twixt me and that blest side 
Of this raging river; the fleeting phantom calls, 
Beckons me toward its safe and sheltering walls, 
But I never shall reach it. Nay, here the black 

waters swirl 
At my feet, and the city's beyond; no matter; hurl 
Me swift to the death! — Ha, ha! — Naught's be- 
yond; naught's here. 
Save the wind and the storm and the wood with its 

branches sere! 
Swift, swift! — Stop this brain! — Ah! — I drink the 
deep waters down. 



31 



And beneath them — alone and unmourned — I sink 

and drown! — 
Help, help ! — My breath ! — Oh, let me breathe again ! 
Come quickly, death! — Oh — come, put an end to 

this pain! — 
Ah! — a quiet rocking to and fro — 
A babe in cradle — slower and more slow — 
Blest sleep — bright dreams — my mother's dear, 

loving face — 
A breathless instant hanging in middle space — 
A silence — a strangeness — a calling, louder than 

Hfe, 
Yet soundless — a blind, bewildered, gentle strife, 
As one waking from a deep sleep — a swimming of 

light— 
A confusion of heavenly shapes — everything, 

bright — 
An instinctive gladness — a wonder — a presence dear 
Unseen, yet felt to be loved, and ever near — 
Then peace." The city is found; the darksome 

night 
Gone and forgot; somewhere in th' unclouded 

light 
Of the pure, ethereal heavens, a spirit blest 
No longer is vainly seeking a place of rest. 



32 



GLIMMERINGS THROUGH THE MIST 

A rosy gleam, a glory throwing 
A wavering brightness from afar! 

A fleeting flash of olden sunshine 
And rays of whiter-sparkling star! 

A richly purple mist uprising 

O'er green hill-slopes bathed in sun! 

A sweeter gush of fresher waters, 
That in clearer rivulets run! 

A drowsy murmur of the breezes, 
Cool and soft and silvery-sweet, 

As through the air's pure crystal clearness 
Swift they glide on winged feet! 

Hush! A faint, uncertain waving. 

As of something in the air! 
A dim sense of some dear presence. 

Unseen in the ether there! 

A loving and a glad communion 
With the silence brooding o'er! — 

Glimmerings, these, of life's lost morning, 
Half-remembered dreams of yore. 

Fair, indeed, these fleeting glimpses 
Through the vista of the past. 

When our present path is stony. 
And with storm-clouds overcast! 



33 



Is the way before us darkened ? 

Is the future veiled from view ? 
Yet those bright lands we remember 

Fade in the farther distance blue. 

Past and future meet together 
In the present's narrow span, 

Seeming but a precarious foothold 
To the timid heart of man. 

Yet the sun still shines above us, 
And the ground is firm beneath. 

And, — before, behind, — the mountains 
Folded are in a dim-bright sheath. 

Nearer draw and parts the curtain, 
Clears away the shimmering mist; 

Tenderly the verdant-sloping. 
Dewy hills with sun are kissed. 

Does a fog sometime hang o'er us ? 

Does a storm o'ersweep the sun ? 
Still we know, beyond are lying 

Smiling lands no clouds have won: 

Even thus, when the night-hung valley 

Closes us in wintry breath. 
Yet a little way walk onward. 

And we pass the shadow of Death. 

And why fear we for the future, 
When the friend of all most dear 

Walks beside us in the spirit, — 
All our lives is ever near .? 



34 



First felt in the gentle stirrings 

Of the air in life's bright morn, 
Now, as grows the soul in wisdom, 

Consciousness of her is born. 

Warmly wrapping up our hearts here, 
Immortal Love shall bear us on 

Past the gate to Death's dark valley, 
Whither those we mourn have gone. 

Fear ye not! The sun will never 

Cease to shine in spirit-land! 
And still, through dimly golden vistas. 

We'll walk with young Love, hand-in-hand! 

Still the past, and still the future 

Shall recede before our view. 
But the gently blowing breezes 

Blend the old airs with the new! 



ATHEISM 

The land where Atheist dwells is known 
To many and many, these days, I'll own. 
I have been there, too; well I know the way 
To that land so cold, and stern, and gray. 
Yet now I've 'scaped it, and stand without, 
And hear heavenly music round about; 
So now I would tell ye, ye that stay. 
How ye may ope the gate and away. 

Ye're armed with Reason; Reason blocks your way; 

Then with Reason must we endeavor to shake your 
sway. 

35 



We must show that the very highest Reason of all 
Is the Faith that waits and works, — or stand, — 
or fall. 

Oh, say ye, doubters, that this universe. 

With all its varied hosts of living forms. 

With all the intelligent mortals made of clay. 

Who are born, and grow, and strive, and feel, and 

think. 
And love — ah, love! — and long for eternity 
With the same deep yearning through all the years 

of time, — 
Is ruled by chance alone ? drifts pilotless ? 
Is a chaos, heaped together causelessly 
By no wise master, and for no purpose great ? 
Oh, say ye that this good ship listlessly 
Veers with the wind, upon the open sea, 
Nor seeks a port; but idly drifts through space 
And time, dooming its freight of human hopes 
To destruction and everlasting death ? 

Is there 
No aim at all, no spirit in the mass ? 
Are we so helpless, chained, and bound to earth. 
That we must perish for aye in the wreck of worlds, 
And life cease being ? Is there, then, no soul. 
No spirit ? 

We know that life is something. Where 
It is not, lumpy matter heavily lies. 
Moved by no will, commanded by no thought. 
This something is quite intangible; that we know, 
For when one dies, no part of the body is ta'en, 
The weight is the same. For ages we've stood 

agreed 
That the soul, if it exists, is thinner than air, — 

36 



A nothing — a thought — an idea we cannot grasp. 
Deny its existence ? Then what, ah, what, is life, 
And what is death ? 

Is the body a mere machine, 
Grinding out thoughts and deeds while unim- 
paired, 
Weakening with long use, and friction, and rust, 
Till at last its busy wheels are stilled in death ? 
Perhaps so; very likely. And is the brain 
But one of the parts of this strangest of machines .? 
Very likely, again. But what of the thoughts that 

come 
Unsummoned by any need of earthly life ? — 
Thoughts of eternity, so wide and vast 
That the brain is bewildered by them; of divinity. 
Glorious, omnipotent, lighting up 
All the world of souls with its radiance; 
Of love that lives when all the stars are dim. 
And finds in the light of God a tranquil peace; 
Of growth from the tiny seed of immortal life. 
Through all the stages of its sojourn in clay, 
Up to the perfect spirit, that has its all 
In love .? 

Ah, me! 'tis strange we are burdened thus 
For no reason at all; 'tis strange that we should die 
And be buried here in the ground, with all our 

hopes! 
If there is a soul, why should it die ? We know 
That at death, the clay returns to clay; the dust. 
To dust. There is a natural law which states 
That matter can never be destroyed: then why. 
Oh, why, should we think that spirit can be de- 
stroyed ? 
Will not the same law hold ? Our scientists say 

37 



That matter may change its form: that wood is 

burned, 
And remains in ashes or flies away in smoke, 
But still the same amount of matter exists. 
Thus when the body decays, 'tis given back 
To the earth or the air, and exists yet, though re- 
solved 
Into its elements: may not, also, the soul 
Be resolved and purified, yet live through all 
Eternity ? 

Let that discussion rest. 
'Tis merely a theory, put forth full oft. 
Foundations hath it, perhaps — enough. We know, 
We know, that from the remotest traces left 
Of life's existence on our earth, its growth 
Hath gradual been, but never-ceasing; thus, 
From the tiny, helpless, microscopic germ 
Of protoplasm, — the ameba, or the first 
Vegetable, indistinguishable, almost. 
From some of the lowest forms of animal life, — 
Through ages of fossil creatures that lived and died, 
Through the age of the winged serpent, the mam- 
moth huge. 
The tropical vegetation o'erspreading the earth — 
The slimy seas, the monsters of the deep. 
The unformed continents lying beneath the waves — 
Through age on age ascending, climbing higher, — 
Stretch up to us two long, unbroken lines: 
One, plants; the other, animals; and last. 
That animal most wondrous of them all, — 
Man, — who in his pride will scarcely own 
The name of his class. 

Is all this goodly growth, — 
This seeming development of a lofty plan, 

38 



Pointing up to no less than divinity, — 

To die on the planet that gave it birth, and leave 

No trace, in spirit-existence, — life, — of all 

It hath been? Oh, then, what a loss! Even we 

can see 
Much better use for so much good material. 
How useless and wasted, all noble sentiments, 
If destined, anon, to exist no more! Oh, no, 
'Tis folly to be so wise, if wisdom it be 
That brings such a dark conclusion! Let me be 
Content to feel that there is a soul, and, too. 
That the soul is immortal! 

Granting there is a soul. 
And that 'tis immortal, then doth the question come: 
Can we think that all these souls just grow and flit 
By chance or their own sweet will ? that everything 
Just happens in the spiritual world ? Not so 
Is it in the world of matter: natural laws, — 
So we call them, — determine the courses of the stars 
And the planets, to a hair's breadth; nothing is left 
To chance. Were it so, the moon would fall in the 

earth. 
The earth in the sun, and all the stars would soon 
Be struggling in chaos. Then why should we 

doubt 
That the spirit-world, as well, is ruled by laws 
Unchangeable as gravitation itself? 
And if laws there be to govern, whence do they 

come ? 
We may not believe in a personal God, as did 
The Greeks and the Romans in days of old; and 

yet 
Some power, we feel, must be at the helm, if the bark 
Is to steer safe into a definite port. Then what ? 

39 



Divinity — mere spirit without form, 

Almighty as no personal God could be, 

Full of power, and goodness, and love, and light, 

Yet after all mere spirit without form — 

We cannot apprehend; the thought's too vast, 

Too abstract, for us to grasp. Yet can we see, 

Dimly, something of this; our straining minds. 

Yearning to clasp the infinite, catch some ray 

Of its distant glory, imperfect as they are. 

Humility is better here than pride. 

We understand enough, methinks, to know 

Our own great ignorance. When we see that, — 

Comprehend — admit — it, — then we know 

That Reason had better put on a Quaker garb, 

And cease to vaunt her glories; keep beside 

Her sister. Faith, so meek, serene, and calm; 

And fly no longer in the face of God, 

Till her waxen wings are melted with the heat, 

And down she plunges, like Icarus, in the sea 

Of dark Despair. Then see we, too, 'tis best, — 

Wisest, — to believe that a master spirit rules, 

Whose vastness can suck up the little drops 

We are, as the sky sucks up the dew. 'Tis best 

To believe a beneficent mind is planning good; 

Cherishing purposes that eclipse the stars 

With their splendor; shielding all with equal love; 

And nursing the little germs of life, till full 

Development they reach. How can we be 

Content to believe, for a moment, that this life 

here, — 
So often a failure, so short of perfection aye, 
So burdened with sorrows often, and loaded with 

cares. 



40 



So far below what we picture in our dreams, — 
Is all ? or that it must perish forever ? or that 
There can be a universe all drifting on 
Forever, and not for the sake of Eternal Right ? 
Oh, good must conquer, and we must live, though 

long 
The way, and dark, to the blessed home of Truth! 
Reason is good, for she shows us oft the way 
Through caverns dark with superstitious fear, 
Or over mountains, piled of earth, or streams 
Boiling with passion, or icy with prejudice. 
Reason is good; we praise her none too oft. 
For by her search-light thrown o'er all the seas 
Of darkness dangerous the passing years 
Have come to wreck upon, we see the rocks 
They stumbled over, steer with greater care. 
And safely 'scape them; by her guidance, too, 
We sail into the future, and avoid 
Much that others have found of danger there. 
Reason is good; never let us desert 
Her beacon, for she guides us well, not ill. 
But let us be not rash, lest some false guide 
May don her face and voice, and sink us deep 
Beneath the waters of Despondency. 
Reason is good, but she dwells with her sister, Hope 
And she is far too just to spit at Faith, 
And call her vixen, traitor, weakUng, fool. 
Because she wears a meeker garb, and seems, 
BHnd though she is, to see a heavenly Hght. 
Reason is good, but Hope is better still. 
And Faith is best of all, for she makes us firm 
In our trust that all that is wrong will be righted 

at last; 
And strong to battle till this life's cares are past. 

41 



Then hail! all hail! Rejoice we as one heart, 

As light we go upon our several ways! 
Each one of us has his own especial part 

In carrying out the plan our race to raise! 
Trust on, work on! No thought or labor's wasted 

That tends to elevate us toward perfection! 
Come on, my friends, ye who have bitter tasted, 
We'll set our faces all in one direction! 
Cheerily, cheerily, sing as we go! 
Divinity's destined for us here below! 
On to the work! Onward, on! 
Whither the best before us have gone! 
Forward, march! Keep step and time! 
We'll take our rest in a sunnier clime! 
Rescue the guilty, cheer the sad. 
Heal the sick, and rejoice with the glad! 
Keep still in the line, and onward still, 
Till at last we reach the top o' the hill, 
And breathe a bit in the rarer air. 
Ere we must melt in the ether there! 
Hark to the peal of the organ-chimes! 
Do they not speak of diviner times ? 
Slow and solemn; slow 
And sweetly solemn! Oh, 
Methinks, from angels flow 
Such harmonies as they go! 
The silent tears will start 
From the depths of the hardened heart, 
To hear those solemn tones, — 
Those sweetly solemn tones. 
Oh, bliss of God indeed, 
Stirring in Thy seed! 



42 



Peace — and rest — at last, 
When this Hfe*s cares are past! 

" In ocean's cave still safe with Thee, 

The germ of immortality!" 



GOOD-NIGHT 

Good-night! 
The parting day hath ta'en its light 
And left us; now the dark hours keep 
Watch o'er the weary world asleep. 

May thy dreams, my love, be bright! 
Good-night! 

Good-night! 
Truth will win, and Love, and Right. 
Slumber sweetly, care-oppressed! 
God is watching o'er your rest. 

May thy dreams, my love, be bright! 
Good-night! 



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FEB lU J 907 



LIBRARY OF 



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